Harry Potter and The Powers That They Know Not
by ubetiburn
Summary: Harry goes his own route to acheive the Greater Good!  Follow him through Dimension Hops, Time Line jumps, Hell and even while he has an encounter with a Tomcat F-14.  Bashing of the characters that we all don't really care for.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

The Anger Of Death was not knocking on his door. Why? Well, quite simply it was not his time to die. Not now, not in the Graveyard or even the Department of Mysteries. IF he was not meant to die, how the was he here before the dark specter of doom? Well, that would not take much to figure out, unless of course you were magical, thought that all you did was for the Greater Good, _or_ believed all the shit that constantly came out of one mouth in particular.

I know you still do not understand...Let me see if I can help with that. Harry Potter had to got to the Muggle side of Platform 9 ¾ when he was disgusted by the sight that was in front of him. No I am not talking about his relatives, whom were standing there, but rather I am speaking of the Order members that were giving his Uncle a stern talking down.

What were they, fucking idiots? His relatives were not the nicest, happiest, sincere or thoughtful of people. They thought they were helping, sure, but when someone tells you half truths and facts wrapped in lies, riddles, and partial answers, then you are bound to do nothing more then make things worse, which coincidentally these particular people were doing.

His Aunt, although rarely physically abusive, looked almost feral – rabid even more so then her Sister-In-Law Marge's lovely dog Ripper. His Uncle Vernon had the chops of a bull dog and the disposition of a Rattlesnake. Dudley, well there were a lot of animals that he shared traits with, like a hippo, elephant, slug, oh the list could go on and on, but with out exception they all were shooting him murderous looks.

The drive home, any other day would have been one of the best that he could remember. Dudley sat on his 99 percent of the rear seat. The remaining one percent was shared between Harry, Hedwigs cage, and the door. Presently he was intimately familiar with the door handle, but at least Dudders was not hitting him with his Smelting's stick.

Speaking of the Smelting's stick, he had heard his cousin clai that a teacher called it 'the board of education'. Basically it was nothing more then a wooden paddle that a parent might use on his or her child when they were misbehaving. Harry had also heard him claim that she tried to use it on him or _did_ use it on him on many occasions. Obviously that didn't work, the boy was not smarter or better behaved.

Anyways, the car passengers were quiet the whole way. The only change in the routine was that Vernon made a couple stops on the way to pick up things that were needed so that his unwanted nephew could earn his keep without the use of freakishness.

He bought a bunch of things at an electronics and hobby store, an automobile parts store, some gas in the lawn mower can, and even some bleach and paint thinner. Paint, paint brushes and even patio/concrete stain.

Looking at all the things that the man was gladly having delivered, he knew that it would be a long and hot summer. At least he now had a window in his so called bedroom.

No sooner had the member of the 'semi-secretive' Order of The Phoenix told the fat man what was what, they all went about their business secure in the fact that the man would do what was in his best interest, and he would. They just did not know that the man's best interest and their best interest was not exactly the same.

You may ask how body guards no matter how unofficial, could be secure in the thought that he would be intimidated was because none of them had any of the bigger or real pieces of the puzzle that was Harry James Potter or his guardianship.

Remus left the train station knowing that his cub was in good hands. Albus assured him, the fat muggle claimed that if anything the 'boy' was constantly threatening them with magic, and that the guard would take up his slack. After all, the greatest smartest and most venerable of them all, the Leader of the Light and the only one the Dark Lord feared, assured him that Harry was happy where he was.

Now one could say that Remus didn't notice the abuse, or the scars, the shunning of public touch, invasion of personal space, or the little to no friends. Had he noticed them, he may have put them off as to his fame or shyness. _IF_ he noticed them, which he didn't. No he didn't notice, he had his own problems, he was after all – a werewolf. Bitten when he was four and shunned ever since. Hence a kid with no friends, outside of one or two, an overbearing Grandfatherly Headmaster and a little kindness kept him blind to the way's of mankind.

The only one who noticed or even cared was now dead. That was another thing that the Headmaster and his charges did not keep from the Dursley's. After all the boy was a freak and they were deathly afraid of his escaped-convict-mass-murdering Godfather, so the fact that there was no one to say or do anything did not help poor Harry one iota.

The rest of the Order were either part time old men, retired nothings, and old ladies (regardless of gender) that did nothing more then worry and gossip, neither effectively. There was no gathering of any _**real**_ intelligence. One was a retired Aurror, that while good in his own way and his own time, was now nothing more then a worried, paranoid old man that was locked in his trunk for months, right under his 'best-friends' nose and the 'best-friend' never knew it. With friends like Albus who needs enemies.

Two to four were Aurror members that had their noses so far up the old man's ass they could not smell the shit, that when he implied, out right asked, or insinuated what needed to be done to reach an objective that only he knew, they would jump to it, never caring to ask how high. The may break a few laws or a few hundred per day, as long as it was for the Greater Good, and with Dumbledore's knowledge, then it was _okay_, wasn't it?

He was the Leader of the Light, Headmaster Of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump, the only one You-know-who feared, the greatest since Merlin, the bonded of a Phoenix, one of the oldest Wizards still alive, the most powerful and knowledgeable. He was Albus Dumbledore dammit! If he said it was okay, then it had to be. After all, he wouldn't lie would he.

Albus Dumbledore said that Harry was loved and cared for. That he was worshiped to almost a perverse level. That he loved his relatives, and they he. The smile that lit up the uncle's face was proof of that, an abusive, mean, or otherwise unfit relative would not drive out of their way to come get you, pay for your schooling or buy you anything and everything that you wanted...would they? From what little they knew or understood, Harry was treated even better then their own son. That was saying something.

So it was this that led up to the demise of our kicked one time too many, little puppy. Albus thought that others would keep to the same schedule that was used last year to guard the child, he had even made notes to thin out the shifts, stagger then or skip randomly so as to better spread out his defensive network and his intelligence operatives. As if Molly Wealey knew what any death eater or suspected death eater was up to, when she was nothing more then a homebody. She sat at home thinking about the hey days, when she was 'attractive', 'nicely proportioned', 'wanted' and about how if she could do things over, she would have married more for money then sex, or a Ministry worker. She often wondered why in the world she turned down Lucius Malfoy's proposal, even his subsequent 'financial proposals'. Maybe she would have to rethink that decision. Money was getting as tight as her ugly skirts, after all.

That was the kind of man that she wanted for her one and only daughter. A man that was strong, rich, powerful in his own way, yet esasily controled by a attractive figure and the thoguht of what he might get with regards to sexual gratifications, when he does as his wife asked.

Her boys were straight, with the exception of Ron and _maybe_ Percy. So there would be no money coming in there, just going out if they were good enough or lucky enough to get a Pure-blooded girl, regardless of her looks, that was harder up for Gold then even the Weasley's were thought to be. Good Luck there, mate!

That is why she brainwashed her daughter into thinking that Harry Potter was her's for the taking. That if she wanted him bad enough then he would be hers. That if she had to use a potion or two to open his eyes or even 'giving it up' to him, then that is what she would have to do in order to get her hands on the Potter fortune and turn it over to her mother. Of course the scheming mother told her gold digging spawn that if she got knocked up that it was to be Harry Potter's regardless. After all the Order had a Potions **MASTER** working for _them_ and he could design a potion to mask who the baby was really fathered by, couldn't he?

Oh it was all planed, the wedding the death, the possible heir. Oh it was all planned out, down to the last Knutt. Everything was accounted for. There was no room for error. Oh she knew Albus had his designs on the boy, even if not quite what they were, but this, no this he would not deny her. She would put her foot down, he would not dare cross her if he knew what was best for himself, never mind others.

Albus knew that if he went too far with his pushing her around or with his 'suggestions' then she would expose him for what he truly was and he was not sure what she meant by the threat but it had to be true, or else she would never use the threat as ammo against his wishes.

Serveus Snape was a hard character to figure out. Dark, ugly, greasy haired, sour disposition, hatred of all things not Slytherin or Snape. A supposed spy for the Dark Lord, one thought to spy for the Light Lord, when in actuality he was hoping for all three of his enemies to die on the battle field leaving him behind to take the show over. That was Snape, let someone else do the work, then take the credit for it!

That was one reason that he was not considered a Potions Master anywhere other then Magical England.

Well that and the fact that Magical England had not changed the rotation of the OWLs or NEWTs in almost three or four hundred years. They had test 'A' and 'B' and alternated them like clockwork. Had a family noticed which some probaly did, then when two siblings or relatives followed one another with a year in between, they had taken the same exact examinations.

This was one reason why they were still using potions more then anything in healing. Had they changed over to the International Standards test, like all the other magical countries, a lot of things would have changed, like magical England would have a spell that imitated a defibrillator instead of one that induses a small bolt of electricity directly to the heart which relied on percission, knowledge and the abilities and power of the caster, thus it was more often then not fatal to use. Or know how to produce a magical CAT scan. Or that 'wands' were not the one and only medium in magical manipulation.

For instance, if Serveus Snape was to apply for a Mastery in, say, America, he would be denied because most of his work was previously recorded or submitted, word for word, theory for theory to the International Potions Master's Guild, the International Licenseing committee and the ICW. All appropriately filed, recorded and dated by multiple fact finders and duplicators - long before he claimed to have made them. Without fail almost all were students or customers tha the had failed in school or down right made the experience so uncomfortable that Endgland lost 99 percent of the possible International Stadard Masters and even Mater Brewers.

Yup, potions made or finished or theorized by a student that was better then him. Submitted days or even years before him. Like Wolfsbane. A Hogwarts student created it, wrote down and had it stolen by a hawk nosed wanna be. The same items soon helped the man earn a Mastery in Potions in England. After all, Lilly Potter would never know, she was dead and England did as England wanted. They were the rulers and founders of magic after all, it was their right. So with stolen formulas and other peoples work, Serveus Snape gat a Mastery that he did not deserve.

Could he brew? Hell yeah he was one of the best in England, maybe most of the world. But there is a big difference in reading about a recipe for say a hamburger and coming up with Prime Rib, Ceaser Salad and Baked Alaskan. Oh and a side of good old Turnip Greens, Mac and Cheese and Mashed Potatoes with Gravy and corn. With the obligatory Captain Morgans Silver Tab and Mountain Dew.

You can serve me a plate of spinich and call it Lobster, but that does not change that fact that it is spinich, get what I mean?

Could he formulate a new or improved potion with no outside help or assistance? Do pigs fly? Well non-magical ones at least?

Hell NO!

When he got into his so called room, the door slamed shut behind him. On what might mistakenly be called a desk was a glass of milk, apple, and a cheese and bologna sandwich. The bread could be used in harvesting new Penicillin, the chesse as a scientific malady, and the bologna has a new chemical weapon. In comparrison the milk was fresh. He was pretty sure the experation date was for the day he left at the end of the previous summer holiday's. Yeah the apple was good, if you ate in between the worms, holes, and black mold.

Ah and the vacation begins. Twelve weeks of uninterrupted, hard labor, little to no food, lucky you don't get water from a toilet bowl. Oh the joy of bending over and taking it...yeah you get the point.

He had just headed down to get his trunk now that Hedwigs cage was in the room, when things went from crappy to shitty. He had pulled the shade so that he could open the window to admit his fine feathered friend when he got a good surprise. There were no bars on the window that he could see. Of course he could not see the window or the shade due to the fact that there were eight lag bolts holding a ¾ inch thick plywood barrier in place. Over the barrier there were two steel bars holding everything tight and secure.

How thoughtful. His loving relatives were so law abiding, making sure that they failed to meet almost a single fire safty law. At least he had a smoke detector, not that they would let him out of the room if it went off or if there really was a fire. Not that there was even a battery in it.

Wait, the Dursley's would have a battery in it, just a dead one or one that was installed backwards or some such crap. Now that he thought about it he would have to check.

Anyways, as he turned around to open the door and ask what was up, his nose was flattened to his face. Ah, Uncle Vernon was starting to show his 'love' already. How sweet!

It was the first full day of Summer break. Ron was excited and ready to make the most of every moment of each day he did not have to sit in a boring stuffy class. He could not wait to they got to the good stuff, like the things that the Headmaster would be teaching them later on in the summer.

He was going to write his best friend and soon lover, but other things came into his slightly smaller then average...mind. First and foremost he was tired, so he finsihed going to the bathroom, headed to the breakfast table where he wolfed down more then his share of food before returning to his room to either look at the Madam Malkin's Witch's Catalog that he stole from his fathers wood shed, or to bed. Either way it was the same.

He would write Harry later, right now he did not want to think about that selfish bastard. It was always Harry, Harry, Harry. What about him, Ronnie! Sometimes it would be nice if he was acknowledged or given some of what should be his anyways. Fame, Gold, Food, Gold, Sex, Food. The things that the best friend of Harry Potter should be entitled too.

While the fool did what lonely introverted sexually repressed kids do to get to sleep, count sheep, think about sex with sheep, what ever it was – his sister was in her room doing her own thing.

Now you perves need to get your mind out of the gutter. She was not chillin', jillin' or anything of that sort, but if anything she was always willing. Willing to lie, cheat, steal, dose and coerce what ever she could for as little as she could get away with giving up.

It was fun running around 9 months or so a year with less then a dozen teachers to keep an eye on upwards of 400 students. Running around learning things and doing things that she bet her mother never would, did, or could do. Broom closets, to broom riders, to sometimes the broom.

She was ;mentally' saving her self for the one that she truly loved with her whole _black_ heart. A black heart that only reacted to gold.

She really was a piece of work. If nothing else she did live up to the reutation that the women of the Prewitt line were said to be like. Ah her mother would be so happy if she heard.

So with thoughts in her mind, she rubbed her thighs together feeling a slight electric jolt run through her body and pulled out some of her best parchment, perfume, and quill. The ink was one she bought at an 'adult' store in some out of the way shop.

That was one weird shop to, it had booths with screens that raised for money and then lowered after so long, and in the side walls there were holes drilled or cut that would allow...well glory to come about, you could say!

* * *

_Dear Dean, I hope that this letter finds you fine. I was going to meet you this weekend but as I am moving to a secret location a few miles from Diagon Alley to the West, I will not be able to meet you as I do not have the sickles and knutts that it would take to get there, and since I can not have guests, we would have no where to 'talk'. I really hope that we can... _

Chapter Two: PREVIEW

Harry had heard his Uncles alarm clock go off and literally flew off of his waffer thin mattress and into his clothes, his feet never hitting the floor. He just knew it, today was going to blow since he was late in waking up, hence no breakfast would be ready for his uncle. Better late then never. Right.

A/N: Got the first hundred pages written just wanting to get a feeling if anyone would read another chapter or if it will fall to the dead pile with the others I started and never finished! Leave a review or message. Sorry no Beta on board...yet. HINT!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Harry had heard his Uncles alarm clock go off and literally flew off of his waffer thin mattress and into his clothes, his feet never hitting the floor. He just knew it, today was going to blow since he was late in waking up, hence no breakfast would be ready for his uncle. Better late then never. Right.

As he slipped his feet into a pair of taped up Dudley rejects, his hand reached for the shiny doorknob. He briefly stopped as one stockened foot suddenly felt wet. That is when he saw a puddle of water was seeping from under his door. Please tell me Dudley didn't piss on the floor again because his fat ass could not fit through the bathroom door sideways.

That is when he felt slightly more current shoot through him then one might if they were being Tazered by some Drug Interdiction Task Force or some religious or bigoted zealot or psychopath hell bent on world destruction.

Just enough to make him loose conciousness, not fry. Or at least not to the point of death anyways! The last thing that he heard was the sound of his uncles laughter and Dudley-kins snickering. It almost sounded like a little four year old girl snorting through her nose. The poofter!

It was here that his heart and magic did react, and they did not do so in any way that one would expect either to act. After all when did normal ever do Harry Potter?

So that heart went into overdrive. An overdrive similar to say a crystal meth freak's heart after a almost pure hit, the first in days. OR, beating like the pistons in a V-12 Ferrari F-1 with nitros and the biggest turbos that would fit it. Twin Turbo. With a full hundred shot of juice. Wide open.

Then of course magic and Murphy had to get involved.

Bright lights started to flash in front of his eyes, even as his fongers barely grasped the metal doorknob. The perhephial vision got hazy before going through something similar to snow blindness. Then he dropped to the floor. The world around him seemeing to phaze out. A birds cry was heard in the far back, background.

Harry Potter awoke to heat. Heat like he had never felt before. Almost Africa hot. There was a strong yet un-naturally sinister smell in the air. Kind of like what you would smell in a multi-family house fire where there was unfortunately fatalities. Hair, skin, and old socks. That and a strong hint of something sulfuric.

Looking up, he observes two moons far far far above the walls that towered a few fathoms above his head. He was deep in the middle of somewhere. It was then he noticed all the gut wrenching, heart stopping eternal screams. Each begging for mercy and forgiveness. Both of which they would never find nor receive.

Nope, he still did not notie the spector dressed in black from head to toe in what could almost pass as a tuxedo. Nor did the teen notice the golden almost yellow staff that had blood red and decay black colored veins going up it, or even the fact that it was topped by a long and wide piece of metal that narrowed to a point and had serated edges on the back side of the shiny silver blade. The skeletal hand holding the scythe started tapping a long boney finger that was yellowing with age and exposeure to sulfur fumes and dust.

It was quietly tapping out the same rhythm as a well known song. Still the boy did not see him after almost a quarter hour.

Harry's head snapped around as he heard the worst redering of music he had ever had the mishappen chance to hear. Like nails down a blackboard, a voice that broke at the worst times in the worst ways assaulted his ears.

"Welcome to where time stands still, No one leaves and no one will. No locked doors, no windows barred, no things to make my brain seem scared..."

Yes it was fitting but not really the Sanitarium that he was thinking of, this was worse...much much worse. Oh hell, was he at his Aunt Marge's? Fuck no, anything but that. That would be worse then waking up in hell or purgatory. Even Umbridge and him getting it on was preferable then being at Aunt Marge's.

Fred and George Weasley were thinking hard about what to do. The shop was doing okay, considering the economy and political climate, but it was not doing as they had hoped, expected or dreamed that it would do and they had to make some decisions and quick.

So they were sitting down talking over their options. They were lucky enough to have Harry not only give them one thousand Galleons and it helped them purchase the tiny store front that they were currently using to put together what owl orders and floo orders they received for their gag products. They were popular, put the popularite only went as far as those people that went to Hogwarts and actually liked their gags and tricks and jokes items.

Mom Weasley was still hoping on about getting their NEWTs and joing the Ministry workforce like their dad did when he gradualted. Even like their estranged brother Precy. Oh how proud she would be of her boys...how she should be able to hold her head up high.

Truth be known, what she was really thinking was that as beginers in the Ministry she knew how much they would make, which was barley enough to rent their own place and survive. This would have been perfect as they would have to stay living at home and she could guilt them into giving her gold every month when they got their salary. After all Ron is their brother and each week the boy put away more food then all the brother combined. Had Ron actually ate like real people do, then she would have found another excuse to get her hands on the gold. Never actually using it towards anything that might benefit anyone other then herself and maybe her gorgeous daughter.

Ginny. Now that was one sexy young wisp of a girl. A little to innocent for her age, but that was okay. As long as she did what she was needed to do so that her mother could get her hands on the Potter legacy and fortune. Bump staff and bonnet, maybe have to get married due to a kid...hell she was sure that her ex-boyfriend could whip up a potion that would make her look, act, resemble and test as positive for being a teen mom to be! That Sev, what a doll...to bad he had to fall for that Mudblood when he could have had her. They both had red hair and were the same height, although Lilly did have her by a small 5 inches and one hundred or one hundred and fifty pounds, and quite a few numbers and letters in the bust department. Why would someone like him like a girl with suck a flat little A or B sied chest when he could have had her and her Fifty-four double F's.

What a fool he was, well his loss her gain! Now to put her plans into action...

"**Ginny! Come down here now!**" screeched the overweight fat bottomed woman.

Dreadful, unhappy Thomas Riddle was in rare form today, indeed. He had not cursed, cussed at, harassed or tortured anyone since the despicble showing at the Ministry of Magic's famed Department of Mysteries.

Oh he would never be able to show his face at the evil warlords convention in Fort Lauderdale this up-coming fall. Oh he would be the laughing stock of the world. Worse then being beat by a eighteen month old baby was getting your ass handed to you by a teen that still had never felt the touch of another man...or lady depending on your preference, although he did like the feeling of a strong set of arms wrapping around him from behind, holding him tight and reassuring him that everything would be okay.

A teen that had handed him his lazy out of practice, out of shape, new in body – ass a few times over since he made off to kill the wee bit lad. Well after the wee bit lad addled his mind and brains durring the possesion, Voldemort was silenced for a bit. Especially since his magic was at such a all time low and not responding, replicating it's self or settleing as quick as it used to. He did not even have the power to vanish his pee or use magic to wipe his own ass, he had to do it like a disgusting muggle, although there was a plus side to his finger breaking through the toilet paper, not that he would admit that of course.

Albus Dumbledore was headed towards Gringott's Bank. He had not spoken to his 'trusted' associate in quite sometime and there things that the wayward Goblin needed to handle unless he wanted some evidence of some supposed misdeeds to come to life. Like inproprieties with accounts and heirlooms, family libraries, stolen artifacts, and even the occasional un-natural act of having sex with animals. Albus actually caught him and Abnerforth with a goat, of course he never did clearify why he was 'sleeping' in the sheep pen. Funny that!

Ah the wonders of knowing things that you shouldn't and being able to keep a secret. Albus' life time desires were on the verge of coming true. He would get what he wanted, was owed to him and what was coming to him, come hell or high water.

So it was this wizened old man that slowly headed down the cobblestone road while sidestepping pot holes and mud pddles that were more prevelent then the stone work that was supposed to be underfoot. It was so hard to find a good stone mason or brick layer from Italy that was willing to repair the roads at a price that the Ministry and Albus thought appropriate.

Well what did he expect no one wants to pay someone in order to work. It should be the Ministry paying the mason, maybe that was why they had not had any street repairs in almost two hundred years. Imagine that.

He smiled widely and nodded his heads towards all the people that acknowledged him first. He did not remember or care to remember most of them never mind their names, that is what a scan of the surface thoughts was for. It let you know the basics, name, age, sexual preference, if he had a chance or needed to use a compulsion charm or an obliviate? Supporter of the Dark Lord, the Ministry or one of his many...

First stop was the office of the account manager for his families accounts. The Dumbledores did not have but two vaults, neither big in any manner of the word, one was more for the presetige of the low vault number then the few sickles stored in it and maybe a knutt or two. But the other held all his truly valued things.

Things like hair and blood samples, unregistered wands and even his favorite movie "Billy Joe Bob chokes his Chicken' were stashed here. Everything that would not do to be caught with. Like the provate files, records, memories, list of wrong doingd, crimes, hell he would put that paranoid man Jay Egards Clover or something like that, to shame.

How hard was it for a magical person to not butcher a proper noun. It was J. Edgar Hoover. F.B.I. Hello!

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore...how may I profit today?" enquired the greedy little goblin.

"I need you, shall we say assitance and support?"

With the nod of the green creatures heard, the frail minded old man pissed on about the greater good this and greater good that until he finally threw some gold over the counter, a slip of parchment, and a rolled up legal document.

"Place that with account number 96857, this sack of gold is your 'tip' and the prize at that address is shall we say, incentive?"

Knowing that he was being asked to break even more laws and treaties the goblin knew the gold may someday come in handy, and before anything else traspired, depoited it into his account. He then place the documents in the proper place and pocketed the parchment.

The Headmaster was happy, his plans wnet off with out a hitch.

Julie was having a hard time of things. She was kind of at that awkward stage. Where boys were starting to look more then just cute. Where her body was betraying her in more ways then one, and where she was wondering if those mosquito bites on her front side would ever grow into something that was larger then well...nothing which is what she had.

Oh she knew that she was cute in her own way and that being skinny was usually a good thing, but not when it was looked at through her eyes, nope it wasn't good at all.

She was it was safe to say, fairly white. Almost powdery white. Her hair was as black as coal and her eyes could make you freeze in their tracks. She was not tall, but definitely not short either, standing a fair 5 foot and 5 inches tall. She was tiny. Less then one hundred pounds, one ten if she was retaining fluids, and a small chest that had more in common with training bras then a real one since she started her physical changes when she was eleven.

She was almost sixteen.

Somehow her family had ended up here in this god forsaken place. Nothing but old and fat people were here with the exception of a few, but they were all either too young or made her feel dirty, self conscious and at times like she was being visually violated.

Her parents were wither having a mid life crisis or they were trying desprately to reclaim their lost years. From what she saw, which was more then she ever wanted to, she was glad they had lost those years. A _long_ time ago.

She had a little sister who was a royal pain in her ass, mostly by design. She was just past her tenth year and had not started puberty, the zit stage or having to put up with teenaged boys that were running high on hormones...sometimes hormones assisted by chemical enhancements.

Oh Julie was not a prude, she knew about sex, drugs, booze and even had seem men and women, boys and girls in different stages of undress at different times in her life. So no, she was not a prude, but she was innocent and planned on staying that way or at least as innocent a possible until she was married.

There was no way in hell she would give up her freedom at her age to be tied down to a teen father, a baby out of wedlock, or drugs and alcohol. Not even cigarettes were tempting, although she did try some weed, beer and Camel brand smokes once or twice, though she was not impressed all that much by any of them. Not really, although the marijuana made her giddy and tired while making her thirsty and hungry for chocolate covered popcorn for some reason. With salt.

Her parents were already up and out of the vacation rental. They were on a small island in the beautiful Caribbean Ocean. It was a family owned and opearted island that was marketed towards families and young 'couples' and was the last place she had thought they would ever go. Shucks, she was expecting another three week car trip across the United States looking at all the national parks and the biggest ball of yarn or some such. Anything or anywhere other then where she was.

But the weather, the sunshine, the underwater marine life and the solatude afford the guests while on the beach, or at one of the all inclusive retail shops, bars, resturants or dive shops, well you could not shake a stick at it.

As she became more comfortable, she hardly noticed that it was a family orientated nudist colony or resort, and soon she too was loosing her inhibitions and layers of summer clothing that she had added extras to her outfits as a field of 'protection'. As was her family. Some faster and more eager then others, especially in front of one another until there was no shame or embarassing feelings. Then it was to the rest of the guest. Scary, embarassing at times for a fair little bit, but in the end it felt natural, made her self image stronger, and shot her confidence up a few notches.

Lucius Malfoy was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He thought he was the Chester Cheetah of the magical world. As far as he could determine his family was the richest family in magical England, maybe the entire magical world. Hell even the dirty muggle side as well.

You may ask why this felonious man was smiling after all the recent laws that he broke. Well that was easy enough to sum up. His rich ass was paying off another bribe to the guilty as sin, crooked as shit Minister of Magic for his instant release from the wizarding prison of Azkaban. Gold bought him innocence, although it would not buy him a reprieve from death or any future retributions. Though he may live in the Valley of the Dark, he was not afraid, not while his foolish friend was in a position of power, a position that was shaky at best presently.

Ah, the power, the luxuary, the trappings that were bestowed upon him. He was not sure how others made it through the day with out even a fraction of what he had at his disposal. The power, the gold, the magics that were beyond most peoples comprehension.

There was a reason and a good one at that why he was the Dark Lords number one Death Eater. He feared nothing and no one. He was Lucious Malfoy and the mere mortals that ran scared for their lives from his master, also ran from him. They were weak, talentless fools. They did not have an Noble bloodline or more th fall back upon, nor the gold to support them, or even the will and desire to get ahead and to help usher in the next great era of the magical world. An era where he was in charge of all that mattered. Him, Lucy Malfoy, big headed, egotistical, self centered, gold grubbing, toe kissing psycopahnt, the blond ass thought that power and fear were the things to aspire to where he so called equivelent on the 'Light-side' prefered the dark and restless wait and see option. Wait and see how he could bend something to their use.

His master was presently pissed off due to the way his Death Eaters handled the debacle at the end of this past school year. How was it that six teenagers all managed to survive a night of horrors. Of running from him and his friends while managing to take most of them down durring the fight.

If rumor had it right, which in his experience it rarely ever got it wrong, then they may have been more successful then they thought in driving that worthless wimp from Albus Dumbledore and out into the open.

Had the two leaders of these so called super powers been more attentive and observent, they may have managed to keep Harry from standing up for his iwn beleifs, beleifs that were not exactly those of either man.

From an outside observation stand point using Thomas Riddle and Albus Dumbledore as reference points, then it woulld appear that the average wizard was worthless and that the more power they had the more they seemed to believe that they were invincible. That they were mere Gods among man.

If only they were more attentive, they would have noticed that they both had lost the one that could have made a difference for their side.

Dragons roared while other animals started to do a wee bit, well...mad or maybe stir crazy. The Goblins were not sure which. They were a race that lived by gold, the esge of a bladed weapon and by being as deceitful and cruel as they could to the magical world.

They for all their wars and conflicts failed to notice a true warrior. Not only that but they failed to notice the dirt that was beneath the feet of one of the more trusted of their kind, Griphook. A young goblin that had visions of gradiour. Thoughts and dreams that placed him as the richest most powerful goblin in the world. Oh how the others would shake in their boots before him. Run at the mention of his name of the sight of his armies and the mass of wealth that he controled.

It was this Goblin that was screwing hiself and a nation of others out of what could truly have been a most benifical partnership, instead of one built upon anger and hate.

Little did he realize that he was one of the goblins that all other goblins despised. He cared more for himself and his own purse of gold then his brothers, sisters or kinsmen and fellow clan members. That Griphook would forever shame his name, family and race. That he would be the Goblin equivlent to the prophet that sold the human prophet's son to his own death. And that he did it for about the same thing, a few pieces of silver or gold.

That he Griphook was sealing not only his own death but that of all of his blood and bonded relatives. That he would be the reason for the fall and colapse of the Goblin world.

Ah, the times were dark and scary, but exciting just the same.

A/N: I am not much for AN's so please for give me for this one. I am preparing to start Chapter Four and I presonally like reading longer updates then short little ones that barely take one or two hits of the page down button, Let me know what you prefer. As always please tell me when you find a big blazing hole that a truck could drive through or when you see that I have left a thread of the story and not gone back to it, such as Harry being in hell. Going to stop there for now, maybe more in a week. I have at least twelve chapter already typed, not beta's though.


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